


Can you hear my heart?

by spinningelectro



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Jinu is and angel!, M/M, Memory Loss, Still happy ending (I think?), Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-03-03 22:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13350603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinningelectro/pseuds/spinningelectro
Summary: “Haute-ya, I will call this last person…If this last one should ignore me, may as well end my fate in ignorance.”----Seunghoon had an accident and fractured his legs terribly. In his despair and hopelessness, he gave up, called a random number to deliver his last message. Jinwoo picked up and saved his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am someone who is easily inspired by good music, and this's one piece come out from a sleepless night with Epik High  
> Still English is not my native language, but I'm still learning, so I'm open to every comment and critics  
> Thank you~

 

 

“Hello?”

 

***

 

He felt like a man drowning, alone and sinking in this abyss of despair, and though he was reaching for that phone like a lifeline, he was already giving up.

Well, it would only be natural to surrender after two miserable failed attempt, not once, but twice.

He called his mom, and his dad, but they were not home, what was left were their warm voices in the automatic answering machine replayed happily, cruelly, and coldheartedly sent him to the voicemail.

He called his sister, she was frantic. Frantic wouldn’t do anything to help him at this point, and before he could say anything, she already hung up with a promise to call their parents and get help.

If he were himself right now, this anger boiling in his veins would make him smash the phone, but he was useless now. He hated this numbness running along his spine, hated this crackling pain in his joints, hated the sting shot though his neurons every time he tried to move his legs. He despised himself right now, if the him from six months ago were here,  _it_ would have stabbed him to death in tears, believing that it was an act on mercy.

His dog wandered back into the kitchen again, running a few laps around him and wiggling its pointy tail. Oh this mean little ego of his, how could he even get annoyed by this? Haute was his adored pet, his dear companion, and he used to love the fact that his beautiful grey hound was hyperactive, but that was the time when he could be equally hyperactive. Haute licked his fingers, nudging under his arms and laid down beside him, and they both stayed still for a while. He sunk into silence, the only sound heard was his own wheezing breaths and the dry buzzing noise of the phone.

“Haute-ya, I will call this last person…”

He said, petting his Italian grey hound with one hand and reached for the phone with the other. Lying on the cold kitchen floor, he didn’t even need to see what he had dialed. 010-XXXX-XXX, he chanced his luck with a random chain of numbers.

“If this last one should ignore me as well, may as well end my fate in ignorance.”

The digits were dialed, and he brought the stethoscope to his ears. It was ringing, he counted the rings. Ringing once, ringing twice,…

“ _Hello_?”

At the time, all he could think of was that,  _oh, he picked up._

 

***

 

Would it be a sin to grieve for what’d been lost? Would it hurt to keep on pretending?

Before all this, Seunghoon was young, and prideful, and rebellious. Call him whatever, such a charismatic dancer, such a womanizer. A bad boy with motorbike and tattoo, a playboy that no mother would ever entrust their daughter to. Bad reputation he had, yet he also earned some good qualities to himself. Passionate, earnest, straightforward, never went back on his words. And above all.

 _Free_.

Before all this, before that fatal accident, he was free.

He remembered a crash, bright headlights blinding his sights. He remembered being yanked off his bike by the impact, thrown in the air and crashed down the road, he remembered the unbearable pain when he felt his shoulders dislocated, his ribs shattered, and the bone in his leg, broken in two, pierced and ripped his muscles to pieces. He remembered blood, the blurry image of his bike burning from afar. He didn’t know who had called the ambulance, he couldn’t remember, someone must have, or else how could he have ended up in the ER – that goddamn truck driver was sleep-deprived and sleep-driving! Maybe it was that  _shadow_ …

Yes, he remembered, there was also a  _shadow_ , maybe  _it_ was real, maybe  _it_ was his imagination, he couldn’t tell.

His mind drifted off when the morphine kicked in. He saw himself, lying by the rocks near the river, leaning against his bike on the windy bridge. In the bookshop, reading his favourite poems. In his studio, letting himself go to one of his favourite tunes… Maybe that was what Seunghoon loved about himself, he did what he allowed himself to do, what he felt good to do, and gave it his all.

He  _was_ young, wild, passionate and free.

And suddenly it was all a dream. That  _self_  he was once so proud of was now buried in the past.

Seunghoon woke up from a week-length coma, and he woke up into a wrecked body.

How cruel those words were, what the doctor said. That  _such a blessing_ , his surgery was a success, and he should be  _glad_  that he could survive that serious an injury. That  _but unfortunately_ , his legs were terribly damaged after the impact, and even if he could be able to heal, all those broken bones and ripped muscles would prevent him to move freely, or with force. In short, he wouldn’t be dance.  _Hell_ , he wouldn’t be able to simply stand, simply walk, simply climb on his bike, not with this fractured leg with iron rods to help it stay in shape.

Seunghoon once was free. Now, that freedom was taken away from him.

 

***

 

“ _Hello_?”

There was something about that voice that was oddly familiar, soothing and warm, it stirred something within him. He just couldn’t tell what, and he answered, repeatedly, almost automatically, “Hello?”

“…Yes, who’s this?”

“Oh, you probably don’t know me, but I’m Seunghoon. Please don’t hang up, my name is Seunghoon, and I’m… I’m dying…”

He heard a short, sharp gasp from the other line, came with some rustles and clatters, then that hushed voice again, a bit shaken, “Please do not joke about this. Tell me what’s wrong?”

How peculiar, that they were complete strangers, connected by this random number generator, but this was the only one who would stay and listen to him.  _Well, maybe he was just being kind and polite, maybe he wasn’t even buying it_ , Seunghoon told himself, yet he couldn’t help a smile pulling up a corner of his lips while tears still streaming down wet on his cheeks.

“Hmm, I had an accident…” He paused there, expecting the other to hang up on him right then to spare himself a lame-ass story. But he didn’t. “Why?” Instead, he asked, “Is it happening?” This one made Seunghoon laugh.

“No, no. I didn’t remember, but it was a month ago. It took my legs. I can’t walk normally anymore, heck, I can’t even stand.”

And he told the stranger about the  _him_  before, the one who was charming with the way he dressed, the way he spoke; the one who loved music so much that he couldn’t help but move his body every time his favourite tune rang up; the one who was wild and reckless and free, been everywhere with his  _baby_ , feeling the wind tangling blowing up his jacket as he sped up on the freeway.

He could almost hear the other’s sighing smile, “And, what happened to  _him_?”

“ _He’s_  dead. In the accident.”

Came silence. Only for a few seconds, but dead silence. He expected an “ _I’m sorry_ ”, in that sickening fake accent that  _normal_  people would react. He expected a sigh, he expected pitifulness. But what he couldn’t have expected, was a short snort, and the sudden serious voice, as if the stranger was scolding him. “No, he is not. If he should die, it’s  _you_ whom killed him.”

It surprised him. It shocked him. In an instant, he did feel offended, he felt angered. Who was this bastard? What the hell did he know about him? He knew nothing about him, he knew nothing about this pain he was taking, all the stakes he was at, and yet here he was lecturing him. How dare him!

But at the same time, there was something about the gentleness in his voice, even though he was scolding him, that eased Seunghoon, that flustered Seunghoon, that made Seunghoon reflect about himself, that made Seunghoon feel better. The stranger was treating him like a normal human being, even though he was this miserable, he didn’t really care. And it was exactly that attitude that made Seunghoon forget about his own misery for a while. He laughed.

“You sure talk big. You know nothing.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t know how hard it is, how painful I feel.”

“Saying ‘ _I can imagine_ ’ would be a lie.”

“You don’t know how much it hurts. It hurts so much just to feel my toes on the ground. This ridiculous numbness is paining me, and.. and it’s so hard, everything is just so hard. I can’t stand, I can’t walk, and the physical treatments, those damn shits just didn’t help at all, I can’t even walk from my sofa to my kitchen, I…”

“You know nothing. You know absolutely nothing, and you talked as if you know me. You don’t know how it felt to lose yourself, to be nearly disabled. I’d rather be dead than a burden that I am right now. Unable to do anything, you don’t know that feeling.. The feeling of.. of…”

“Of not being the same. Nothing is the same. I’m not the same. I’m not the same anymore. I’m not the same anymore…”

Before he knew it, Seunghoon was crying. The hell with dignity and shame, he burst out like a six-year-old, sobbing and shaking, wet tears on Haute’s slick head, dropped on the ground and halted on the stethoscope. Seunghoon cried like a child, his body squirming and shaking uncontrollably, he didn’t care if he had just poured his heart and soul out to a complete stranger, he needed someone to listen to him now, and whoever this stranger was, now he was Seunghoon’s listener, and Seunghoon felt like it might be a better idea to speak it out rather than let this grief slowly rotten him.

“Seunghoon?” He heard the voice, and he covered his mouth, held in his hiccup, “Seunghoon.”

“You’re right, I don’t know how hard it is. But I heard you. You’re strong, Seunghoon. You can get through this.”

_Shut it, don’t talk like you know me!_

“You’ll be able to walk again, to dance again. It will be so hard, and it will hurt so much, but if you really want to, you can make it.”

“Oh shut it… You are just pitying me like everyone else!”

There was a sharp pause at that, of course there would be. Seunghoon should probably feel proud of himself, or at least a bit easier, gloating over someone else for just a slight second, forgetting his own misery. But at that moment, he was choking on his regrets, and he even questioned himself, questioned his own anger, why he was yelling at the stranger when he was obviously just trying to be genuine and encouraging. “genuine and encouraging”; he was already sick of it, “Of course I can stand again, walk again, but.. dancing.. I-it.. it would not be the same, nothing would be the same..” He sniffled and babbled, even he himself knew he was making his own stupid excuses.

Somehow, some way, he felt like he had heard a sniffle on the other line. Tell him that he was fooling himself, tell him that he was feeling sorry for himself, but he felt like the stranger did cry.

“Of course it wouldn’t be the same, Seunghoon… But, but you’ll be able to.. to use your legs freely again… You’ll be free again, Seunghoon-ah, you just need to allow yourself to be free..”

Tell him he was too engulfed in the stranger’s kindness, but was he mistaking it when such warmth felt far too familiar. Because it eased him instantly, this burning in his chest and this pain crushing his heart. And the voice continued, soft and soothing, warm with care and gentle with guidance, Seunghoon thought that it was better than any therapeutic session. “Are you still on kitchen floor?” He instinctively nodded, without realizing the stranger couldn’t possibly see that on the other line, “Baby steps then, how about you grab hold on something, then pull yourself on your feet, alright?”

He reached for the edge of the table, and as he stretched he immediately felt the pain shot through his spines. He cursed under his breaths. “Easy,” the stranger hushed, and somehow, it made Seunghoon smile. He pulled one leg up, and it stung, numb and itching, but he was determined. Hands gripped on the edge of the table, he pulled himself up, one knee at a time, stabled his weight on his feet, and before he knew it, he was up, standing straight.

“I’m standing…” he whispered, amazed with himself.

“Yeah? You are? Thank God…”

The happy beam on the other line somehow made him burst into laughter, and for once in that month it was a sane laugh. It hit him like a fresh wind, a bright warm light from a newly opened door to this tepid, rotting, meaningless hell he was living. He didn’t expect it would be, but it happened, this phone call with the stranger just officially saved him from breaking.

“I.. haven’t known your name.”

The silence was oddly long, but the answer came eventually, “Jinwoo.”

 _Lovely name_ , he mumbled to himself. “It’s a stupid thing to ask but… do I know you, Jinwoo?”

He heard a breathless sigh, a hiccup, a sniffle, maybe he misheard, because the voice stabled again immediately, “Don’t think so. No… H-how.. did you call this number anyway?”

“I dialed a random chain. It happened to be you.” He gave a short pause, then he chuckled, “I’m glad it’s you.”

 _You saved my life_ ; he wondered if it was too soon, too bold to confess it, but he knew it was true.

 

***

 

Jinwoo became his regular contact.

Everyday, after waking up, he would text Jinwoo a good morning. And same went before bed. And he would wait contently for Jinwoo’s reply, which usually came with a cute emoticon.

Sometimes, he would call Jinwoo during his therapeutic sessions, or physical treatments. Doctors said every encouraging movements count, and nothing could be more encouraging than Jinwoo’s voice by his ears. Jinwoo talked to him, always, in his hushed and gentle tone, shushing him, things like, “ _easy_   _on yourself_ ”, “ _you’re doing great, again, on you go_ ”. It was amazing, how a single voice could give him so much strength, how Jinwoo had such power over him. Magnificent, he couldn’t believe his luck, how fate had brough Kim Jinwoo to him.

_“I walked 100 meters today, Jinwoo, without stopping.”_

_“Yayyyy~ I’m so glad.”_  See? A cute text he said.

Not just Seunghoon, but other people around him, also noticed the positive change in his behavior. He woke up early in the morning, and instead just laying, staring at the ceiling, he wobbled to the bathroom to shave. He made himself breakfast, he fed Haute. He tried letting go of the wall as he walked, he put more effort into physiotherapy exercises. He walked with Haute on a daily schedule, he told his trainer to pick up the pace with the walking machine. Most importantly, he was cheerful again, bright and optimistic. When the shaking went down and the numbness started to ease, he started to try wiggling to his favourite tunes, to do some basics move. Once he tried a spin, and gosh did he fall miserably.

“Are you alright there Hoon-ah?”

“I’m alright mom.”

His mother was surprised to tears. She hadn’t heard that kind of laugh in months.

 

***

 

_“I’m driving today, Jinwoo.”_

He giggled at the text, and no matter how eager he was waiting for the reply, Seunghoon still put it away to have both of his hands on the driving wheel. Minho beside him was rather anxious, the way he fidgeted with the seatbelt revealed everything. “Mino! Do you or do you not trust my driving skills?”

“Dude, for the record, I’ve  _never_  trust your driving skills.” Minho retorted, frowning, “Are you sure that this’s a good idea? You’re not yet fully recovered.”

“I wanna try.” He said with a shrug, jutting the gear stick, “Grab onto something, if you’re that worried.”

“Just to remind you, it’s still my car.”

“Yeah yeah,”

He snickered like a kid, it was the first time he drove in forever. Seunghoon had both driving licenses for cars and motorcycle, but he would never get in the car when he knew he could enjoy the fresh wind and the raw smell of the highway on the back of a Harley. Climbing on a motorbike for him at this state now was temporarily unavailable, but “ _a four-wheeled vehicle could do you well_ ”, Jinwoo once said. And now, Seunghoon sat in the driver’s seat once again.

It was a bumpy ride (he felt sorry for Minho). His shaky limbs sometimes messed up the brakes and the accelerates, and all the horns and curses blurted out at them as he poorly managed the car through intersections. Minho yelped desperately every time, mourning for the sake of himself and his car, but after all it was in vain.

Seunghoon felt so refreshing. His blood was rushing in his veins and pulsing under his skin, his heart was racing and gosh he loved it. He laughed out loud and pressed his foot harder on the accelerate paddle, making the vehicle roar. It felt so good, it relived him.

_“How did it feel? Are you okay?”_

_“More than okay! I feel awesome! Thank you!”_

_“It’s your effort,”_ then came another ring,  _“but you’re welcomed.”_

 

***

 

“Should be near, no? Your re-surgery.”

They were sitting in the studio, listening to a young, new singer in the recording room. Minho just found this new one, a young boy from Busan; Seunghoon’s dearest hometown.  _His voice was amazing_ , Minho exclaimed, and Seunghoon must agree with him. Warm tone, husky and deep, instinctual and inspirational, a voice that felt music and moved people by his own music. Seunghoon knew his friend could spot a potential, just like how Minho had found him before.

“Yeah. I’m fasting for it.”

In five days, Seunghoon would have a surgery, to remove the iron rods in his legs. He had been recovering well for the past three months, now without these rods, his legs could still manage. He had been walking around fine, five miles a day on foot with his Haute, his body didn’t feel as much sore and tiring as before. Removing these metal nails, he would gain more control over his fractured limbs, and he was determined that he would thrive to recover more.

“Then, would you meet this mysterious person?” Minho asked, glancing at his friend, who had been staring at his phone screen grinning like an idiot, “Who is this guy anyway?”

“Do you have to ask me in that monotone? No, you’re not knowing him until I meet him first,” answered Seunghoon grumpily, there was something about Minho’s tone that made him feel uneasy, as if Minho wasn’t as excited or happy, almost emotionless; to what he found strange. Minho used to be a positive respondent, and if he was quiet about everything, it would make Seunghoon worry about his own judgment. But he didn’t worry about this, about the fact that he let a stranger in his life, encourage him and now, he felt like he was falling in love with him. It was ridiculous, it was reckless, he didn’t even know how Jinwoo would look like, he barely knew about his life through their conversations, but Seunghoon was in love. With the other’s warm voice, his gentle smile, his beautiful laugh, the way his kindness showed.

From what they shared, Jinwoo stayed in Seoul, had a nice flower shop in Seodaemun district. He had two cats, Sphynx, a beige one and a black one; Seunghoon wouldn’t exactly call them cute, not after seeing pictures of Jinwoo’s sofa, scratched and ripped under the cats’ paws; but Jinwoo loved them dearly, regardless of his own allergies. They sent each other a lot of pictures, but never had he seen Jinwoo’s face, nor had him shown Jinwoo his own, but who was he to care that much?

_“I’m going to have a surgery again.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Mmh. Removing the remaining iron rods. I’ll be able to recover more that way.”_

_“I see. I hope so too. Try your best, just a surgery, nothing to be scared of.”_

It made him laugh, and he bit his lips, hesitating before pushing the keys on his smartphone’s touch screen,  _“Can I see you, afterwards?”_

_“Hmm? Of course, I’ll be here.”_

_“No. I mean, actually see you. Face to face.”_ He paused, a vision flashed his mind, and his lips curved into a smile, _“I want to drive over to a café of your choice, park it by the block, then walk to you, to see you.”_

Three-minute pause, Jinwoo had hardly ever let him wait that long, not when he was enjoying his evening with his cats on his laps. Seunghoon gulped, then jumped. His phone rang, and gosh it startled his heart.

_“Sure. I’d love that, where would we meet?”_

Dear Lord, how could he be anxious over a minor surgery when Jinwoo had promised him such a sweet  _date_?

 

***

 

The surgery was a success. Another week had passed and the recovery had been on track. Doctors said it was a miracle. Seunghoon cursed the hospital’s policy on no cellphone. It was the only thing prevented him from thanking  _his_ miracle.

_“When do you close the shop on Friday?”_

_“Six.”_

_“Alright, dinner?”_  He thought it through, then added,  _“Then, perhaps a drink?”_

The reply came a minute late, but cute as usual.  _“Sure ^^”_

Haute looked at his  _dad_ rolling on the soft pillows of the bed and tilted his head in curiosity. He loved his dad, but sometimes his dad would do things that he could hardly understand, he guessed it was human’s things. Dad hugged a pillow to his face and grinned like a total idiot, then rolled a few rounds, just enough to wrinkle the sheets, and he jumped right up to yank open his wardrobe, yelling out to Haute, “Haute-ya, what should daddy wear, hmm? I need to look my best! I need look most handsome!”

Haute shook his pointy little head again, chewed his stuffed carrot toy and paid no more attention to his dad.

Friday night, he thrust his legs into a pair of grey jeans and pulled his favourite biker jacket over his shoulders. He combed a hand through his dark hair and adjusted his nose piercing. Straightened up his jacket, Seunghoon looked at himself in the mirror, and gave a stupid, cheesy smirk.  _Looking good, Lee Seunghoon._

It was almost six when he called Jinwoo.

“Should I come pick you up?”

Jinwoo laughed his joyful laugh, and he could hear the sounds of door clacking, “I’m closing. I should be over there in fifteen, so no need.”

“Alright, I’m almost there,” he smiled, carefully turned the car into the driveway of the block’s parking area, “I’ll be the handsome one in the black jacket.”

Answering him was unstoppable laughter, beautiful and fond, almost ethereal, “Seu-Seunghoon—nie… Haha…” Oh gosh how could he possibly not have fallen in love, when Jinwoo was being this cute, being this kind, and his words alone having such this dramatic effect on his heart?

He settled for a seat in the corner, under the warm golden light. He eyed the velvety red napkin under the sparkling silverware; he had chosen a fancy Western restaurant for such a special night like. Jinwoo told him that he had nothing against foreign food, and for him, Seunghoon didn’t mind spending a bit; he thought so as he told the waiter to bring out the best wine they’d got.

Jinwoo should be here soon, Seunghoon thought as he checked the time. He pondered a moment, staring at the screen, then turned on his front camera and posed for a selfie, made sure to bring out his utmost attractiveness. They had never seen each other before, and he thought he should send Jinwoo a picture to recognize him by, in case the “description” earlier wasn’t enough.

The reply came immediately,  _“I see, the handsome one in black jacket ^^”_ He could almost imagine Jinwoo’s chuckles.  _“Wait, I’ll send you one of mine too, in case you can’t recognize me.”_

All this adrenaline rushed through his body as he looked at Jinwoo’s text, and before he knew it he was already grinning for at least half a minute. He wondered, if Jinwoo liked his cockiness (was it a crime to be confident of your look???), and how Jinwoo would possibly look like. It made him nervous, it made him restless, ahhh what should he do? When would that image arrive? When would Jinwoo arrive? How to make time go faster? When could he see Jinwoo?

Unfortunately, much to Seunghoon’s expectation, and anticipation and hope, that picture Jinwoo promised to send him never came. Nor did Jinwoo.

Jinwoo never came that day.

 

***

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

His phone went silent for exactly five days later. No phone calls, no texts, no explanations no apologies, nothing. Seunghoon felt torn apart staring at his empty phone, his neurons were pulsing against his temples and his head wanted to burst. This silence frightened him, and it wasn’t until then had him realized, that he knew nothing, absolutely nothing about Jinwoo beyond these worthless numbers. And now when all his frustrated attempts to call this meaningless chain of number ended up his vain, Seunghoon was left in wrath and despairs once again. Jinwoo disappeared, without reasons, without traces, and gosh why so cruel, why so fast? He re-read and re-read their texts a hundred times, played back and played back memories of Jinwoo’s voice, Jinwoo’s sigh, Jinwoo’s smile, Jinwoo’s laugh a thousand times. His face was red, his eyes were wet, his head slumped and buried between his arms as his body shook violently. Had he gone crazy? No, he knew Jinwoo was real, everything was real,  _it has to be._  Then why didn’t he come? Why didn’t he call? Why weren’t there a text back saying a simple sorry, making up an excuse for his absence? If it was Jinwoo, Seunghoon would have forgiven him  _anything._

Five days, and nothing. It drove Seunghoon crazy each and everyday, and the thought of there was nothing he could have done was unbearable, the thought of losing Jinwoo depressed him further and further, and his surroundings slowly sunk back into nothingness.

“Get it together, this lovesick bastard!”

Said Minho, slapped a hand on his back hard, causing him to jolt and dropped his headphones. It was over midnight, the studio was closing, but he refused to stand up and go home. Absentmindedly, he stared again at this phone. The phone screen was blank and remained dark, no text messages, no missed calls.

“Shut it. Just go home, I’ll lock up.”

Minho wasn’t a patient man, but it was strange that he was being this cranky. He yanked hard on the back of Seunghoon’s wheelchair and literally lifted him up by the collar. His eyes were bloodshot and just anyone could tell that he was pissed, “Go home Seunghoon, and spare me this sobbing shit. You dialed someone randomly, you didn’t even catch his face you idiot. The way you’re acting right now is absurd and stupid!”

“Get off me, what’s your problem?!” He pushed Minho away with an annoyed frown and straightened up his collar, but that didn’t stop Minho’s anger.

“After that accident you were down, I got that. But you have me, you have your whole family there and you have me, and you decided to talk to some random boy, a fucking total stranger!! Isn’t this to be expected, huh? That he wouldn’t dare to show, that he would leave after having his fun?! This fucking idiotic bastard would you pull your head out of your ass already!?”

“Shut up!!” He didn’t know what Minho’s problem was, but no one,  _no one_  was allowed to speak of Jinwoo like that; God knew how hard he tried not to punch his best friend in the face, “Don’t talk like you have the upper hand on me, don’t talk like you know anything about him!! Jinwoo was there when no one was there for me, Jinwoo means to me!!”

Minho gave in with a sarcastic smirk and a sharp sigh, and honestly he wouldn’t mind knocking some senses out of Seunghoon right now, and he swore he was about to raise his fist when that name hit his ear, “Wait a minute?  _Jinwoo_? You said Jinwoo?”

And they both froze at that, exchanged a short confusing look, it was hard for Seunghoon to form a coherent answer right away, “Y-yeah.. So?”

“Kim Jinwoo? You sure it’s Kim Jinwoo?” Why was it that Minho’s face had turned all pale? And how on Earth did he know his name? Seunghoon nodded, and Minho choked on his breath. “How!? How did you remember him, how!?”

Minho was freaking out, grabbing onto both of his shoulders and shook him vigorously, and it made Seunghoon freaked out all the same. “Wha-what do you mean.. by  _remember_?”

“Oh God… Gosh gosh gosh! Seunghoon, just tell me the truth! How did you know his number?! How did you know him!?”

“Fuck Mino I dialed a random number!! That’s how I know him! Now can you just spit it out what the hell is going on?!”

He had never seen Minho like this, it was like all the life was leaving his body, the way his face turned white and his eyes were growing soulless revealed it all. “Oh my god, oh my god…” He held his head between his palms and groaned, and when he finally looked up to meet Seunghoon’s eyes, Seunghoon saw regrets, he saw guilt, and he saw the ugly truth that he wished he had never involved.

 

***

 

 

He jammed his foot on the accelerate paddle, his vision blurred out by tears in his eyes.  _No no no no no. Impossible, no!_

_“You knew… Jinwoo, before.”!_

Minho’s words rung in his mind and it felt like the world just shattered around him. “Get the fuck outta the way!!” He shouted and honked at the cars at front, wiped away his tears with one hand and tried to stable his shaking hand on the steering wheel. The pain was unbearable, in his heart and his lung, he was screaming and screaming as if he was insane, or perhaps he was really insane. How, how could this have happened? Why would it happen to him, to them?

_“You suffered a memory loss after your accident as well. You forgot him, he was so devastated, but he accepted it…”_

_“Jinwoo… Jinwoo was your boyfriend, before all this. You guys were fighting when it happened, you got pissed and stormed out on your bike. You crashed, and you forgot him, it all was wiped out of your mind…”_

Now he got it, the mysterious  _shadow_  appeared every time he glimpsed in his past. When he was reading, the shadow was sitting across the table, sliding his arms out on the back of his sofa, playing with his black Sphynx cat, and gosh he could almost see glimpse of those slender fingertips on the cat’s naked body. And when he was dancing in the mirrored studio, the shadow was in the recording room, legs bent together, all crawled up in his chair and rested his head above his knees, and now he could almost catch the brand of those sneakers. Had  _it_  might be Jinwoo, hadn’t  _it_? The shadow was getting clearer as the memories were slowly coming back to him, the smaller frame of an older man, wasn’t so petit but always looked so small compared to him, always urged a protective side of him. Long slender fingers, smooth fingertips, skin sometimes red from the rashes caused by obnoxious cat-hair allergy.

 

***

 

There was a time, he was so deep in his dreams, and he drifted off. Before he knew it, he opened his eyes to the sight of himself, face bruised up and covered by an oxygen mask, lying on the tedious white sheets of the hospital’s bed.

Oh, so this should be the experience soul leaving your body. Oh, he should be close to dying – that was what he thought.

That shadow was here then, too. Exhausted and asleep, slumping over a side of his bed. Dark short hair, small shoulders, buried his head between his arms, his body moving softly and he could almost feel his breathings. He was warm, so warm, and he could feel that warmth from the shadow’s palm, from his fingers entwining tightly with his own; and that warmth eased him, somehow.

Even now, as a spirit that he was, he was being  _loved._ This warmth proved that. He couldn’t see the shadow’s face, but he knew, that he  _loved_  him.

If he were to be alive, let him live and accept this love.

 

***

 

The car screeched and jut to a stop as Seunghoon pulled it slick along a curved driveway of Severance Hospital. Collapsed on the steering wheel, he poured out his heart and soul, sobbing lowly in his throat and there was no stopping the streams of tears pouring from his eyes. He killed the engine, stumbled out of the car and ran like a hysterical into the hospital, despite the securities’ desperate attempts to chase after him and stop him.

_“If it was really Jinwoo, then it’s clear why he didn’t come… My God… Seunghoon.. I’m so sorry…”_

He ran on shaky limbs, tripped and fell and got back up again. Signs and room numbers flashed through his vision and blurred out, and yet he just kept searching.

_“A car drifted off at an intersection and went out of control, crashing over the pavement. It hit him, and he was injured… very, very seriously… Gosh Seunghoon I’m sorry, he.. he didn’t allow me to tell you about him.”_

Thud! He fell hard, the pain was sharp and thrumming through his right leg. His newly treated leg. He groaned, grunted, cursed under his breath. It wasn’t a random chain, he got it now. His mind forgot after a serious trauma, but his body didn’t. His fingers had already learnt those digits by heart, it was this raptured mind that had deceived him. It was never a coincidence, it was the cruelty of fate.

Swallowing a hiccup, he got back on his feet. He’d got a purpose now, a goal to run to, and time was ticking.

 

***

 

“He’s awake… Oh my god he’s awake!! Minho-ya, wake up, call unnie and his parents!!”

It rewound like a black-and-white flashback of a movie, where he squinted his eyes, not yet used to such sudden exposure to bright light in the room. People were rushing around him, he could hear gasps and small, choked scream, sobbing mixed with laughter and words of gratitude and appreciation.

“Seunghoon…? Seunghoon-ah, can you hear me?”

Soft, gentle hands palmed both of his cheeks, and he found himself instinctively rubbed his head against them. His ears still buzzed and his head still felt buzzy, he felt like sleeping more, but he forced his eyes opened, The lights were a bit too bright behind that person, the shadow blurred the details of his face. But he knew this warmth, he knew this gentleness. He could see glimpse of that delicate chin, those wet cheeks, locks of brown side bangs and this pretty little mole on his upper eyelid. Blinked again, and it all turned blurry once more, and Seunghoon was almost frustrated.

“Seunghoon? Seunghoonie… Oh thank god, Seunghoonie I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

The man slung both arms around his neck and pulled him in. He couldn’t remember if he had made out that face clearly. Perhaps he hadn’t, perhaps he had, yet this broken memory prevented him to see. It was like a jigsaw puzzle, each pieces were coming back to him, forming a bigger picture of his previous life. This person appeared in every single pieces of them, he could see his clumsy knife hand as he chopped up the spring onions; his ringed hands stroking up and down the smooth skin of the Sphynx cats and his Haute. He could almost hear the young man’s laugh, the young man’s shout, his bright smile that was warmer than sunlight, his soft call “Seunghoonie” that was sweeter than honey. He remembered everything, yet ironically, the reason they fought that day, he didn’t. All he could have seen was tears, and himself shouting… It all slowly came together now…

“W-Who.. who are you?”

Those vicious, heart-breaking words coming out from his own mouth rung in his mind like thunder, and he was sure it had done the same to the other man. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it, through his shaky, loosened grip, the way he stumbled back away from him, as if he was appalled, as if he was disgusted. Seunghoon saw him shaking his head over and over, and those lips pressing together tightly, mumbling that question again, reconfirming if he had known him, and all Seunghoon could have done was frowning a “no” like a fool.

No. Deep down inside, he knew that was not true.

He knew him. He knew he must. But there was a big gap in his memory that resulted in this blank hole blackening the young man’s features. The picture was finishing, the only piece missing was his face, and no matter how hard he tried, it was unable for him to recall.

It was slowly… coming together… Jinwoo…

 

***

 

He crumbled to the ground with a long, hysterical, desperate scream. Tears burst out and there was no stopping them, drop by drop pooled on the cold hard ground, the tedious white dulled around him, and he bathed in his own sorrow, his own bitterness, this cruel joke of their destinies. Down on his knees, hands sliding down the metal door of the recovery room 9-26, patient’s name written on the board above, three Hangul characters clearly pronounced Kim Jinwoo. The final, one and only, most important piece had been revealed, and it was behind that door, lying on the white sheets, the high and stiff pillow of the hospital, underneath all those wires and an obnoxious oxygen mask.

Porcelain skin, pale and white. Soft plum lips, purpley, losing their sweet colors. Slow breath fogging up the mask from the inside, exhale and inhale evenly, if anything so weakly. Round eyes shut closed, revealing his dark, long eyelashes.  _Please… No-no… Wake up, wake up.. please—_

“Arghh—-”

He clutched on his heart, where it pained too much. They were pawns, they were toyed, they got played, ridiculed under God’s hands.

“Jinwoo…! Jinwoo-ah…!!”

He collapsed, sobbing incoherently. His past was now fulfilled, and it came back to hunt him. Images flashed through his mind like a rewound movie: of Jinwoo cooking in their kitchen, rubbing his eyes with the hand he’d just chopped onions and immediately started crying. Jinwoo pulling the covers opened, mercilessly exposing his sleepy self to the bright lights, his beautiful laugh echoed everywhere, and he pulled him back on the bed just like that. Jinwoo on the back of his Harley, arms wrapped around his middle, head leaning against his back, and he could feel his sanctuary right there. Jinwoo sneezing from his allergy, Jinwoo snuggling close to him on the sofa, Jinwoo disrupting him whenever he was with his computer, Jinwoo looking up at him with those doe eyes from underneath their sheets…

 

***

 

_“He didn’t want me to tell you, that’s why I didn’t.”_

_“After the trauma you’ve had, he didn’t want you to suffer…”_

***

 

All this time, Jinwoo had been so close, right where he needed him, only a phone call away. He had always been here, hidden and forgotten in a corner of his mind, and now he was here. Here, only a door away, yet why was it that it felt so far? This heart once again relived with the burning love he once had for Kim Jinwoo, and now why must he face the risk of losing him again?

The doctors and nurses rushed over to his side, but he let them be. Crying and screaming like a maniac, he chanted Jinwoo’s name and his own apologies, yet deep down, knowing that he didn’t deserve it…

 

***

 

_“The surgery did save his life, but his legs were so terribly fractured, and the impact affected his spines seriously.”_

_“He’s still in a coma now. But when he woke, he might not be able to use his legs…”_

_“Seunghoon,… I’m sorry…”_

_***_

 

 _Hmm… bright…_ It was so bright now, and it hurt his eyes to open.

He could feel the soft breeze blowing from the opened window, warm lights softly caressing his face. Smells of medicine of the aseptic room made him feel itchy, but there was a soft flowery scent that eased him, a mixture of something old and fresh of cedar, sweet and citrusy of orange essence, attractive and alluring of blue lavender. Such pleasing smell, some kind of cologne, he mused. It brought back something within him, also in a warm day like this, a tall figure standing on the other side of the room, spraying his favourite cologne, combing a hand through his slick black hair. Ah, he knew who that was. A person from a long time ago, who had cast him out from his life unknowingly, unintentionally, and left him here with a broken heart; and yet he was still madly in love, and blind enough to forgive everything.

Seunghoon…

Was he dreaming, to feel Seunghoon’s cologne this close by his side? Was he lost again, burying himself in some sweet thing that no longer exist? All two years together, gone just by a blink of an eye, gone like a mindless, illusional teenage dreams, and now it was time to wake up.

Soft music was played in the room, he remembered this tune. It wasn’t a song that Hoon liked, it was one to  _his_  favourite.  _Too sad, stop listening to it_ , what Hoon always told him…

 

> _“_ _I don’t think I can erase_
> 
> _Because the memories were too perfect_ _, f_ _or the imperfect me_
> 
> _But I try again_
> 
> _It’s so much harder to fall out of love_ _t_ _han to fall in love_
> 
> _you make me live and die again_
> 
> _I’m not alive without you._
> 
> _I’m not alive without you._
> 
> _You know I’d die without you…_ _”_

 

Honestly, he didn’t even remember why they fought. They would have fought about every minor thing, about a skincare product misplaced or an over-budget bill. He hoped it hadn’t been a minor thing; or else how regretful would he be… He couldn’t have stopped Hoon when he stormed out of their door and climbed on his Harley, and disappeared into the night…

“S-Seung—hoon…”

He heard a rustle by his side, or maybe it was an echo from his own mind. The ambulance noise obnoxiously buzzed in his mind, the clanks and clatters of the stretcher and all the metal tools, and he could hear his cries, muffled by his hiccup and both hands covered up his mouth. Seunghoon, dressed in green and dirtied by blood, undergoing a surgery after a fatal accident, and Jinwoo couldn’t help grieving looking at his state. Needless the doctor to say, just by looking at those bloody, deformed, fractured legs, Jinwoo understood the risks, and God helped him he was scared.

 

> _“_ _All of you that was always in my hands_
> 
> _It transparently smears and my eyes get blurry with tears_
> 
> _When I look back, I’m in the same place_ _with a heavy heart…”_

 

“Jinwoo? Jinwoo, you’re awake..?”

He was still dreamy, too long had he sunk himself in this poisonous dream. He missed Seunghoon, he longed for him too much, and he mercilessly forgotten him. His heart hurt as if it was broken in halves, but Seunghoon wasn’t one to blame. He lived with it, being oblivious to his beloved, even though it pained him, it couldn’t be as painful as watching Seunghoon doing physical recovery treatment. Every time he fell, Jinwoo shivered. Every time he crumbled, Jinwoo prayed that he wouldn’t give up. Each time he ended up in failure, discouraged and mad, Jinwoo felt it throbbing in his heart.

 

***

 

_“Why? Why is God so cruel?! Why must it have happened to him..?!”_

_He punched the solid wall until his knuckles were all red. Voice crackling, he cried to Minho, this guilt and helplessness engulfed him, “His legs were everything to him, why did God take that away!? If God must take… why don’t take mine instead..?!”_

 

***

 

“Jinwoo?! Jinwoo, do you hear me…!?”

Warm, so warm, this hand clasped around his own. He looked to his side, and there he was. Seunghoon was there, kneeling on one side of the bed, fingers entwined with his own, holding on tight. Oh, he wasn’t dreaming…

“Seung—hoon?”

He had never seen those onyx eyes wide opened, and how those brows raised and drooped again showed enough how he was so relieved, “Yes… Yes, Jinwoo, I’m here. I’m here…” He breathed, and he leant down to kiss his hand, on his knuckles, on his fingers, then his palm, “I’m here, I’m finally here…”

Something was choking in his throat, and Jinwoo could feel the tears were welling up in his eyes, “You—you re—member…?”

“Yes, yes…” came Seunghoon’s reply, and gosh it was all Jinwoo’d ever wanted to hear. He kissed his hand again, then his forehead, his tears, his cheeks, his lips. Oh how he’d longed for this moment, to be held in Hoon’s arms, to be kissed by those gentle lips, to be known, to be loved.

He’d longed for Seunghoon for too, too long. He thought he had lost him forever, he thought he would have been this unknown existence in his beloved’s life for eternity. When his phone rang on that fateful day and Seunghoon’s insecure voice sobbing on another line, he thought it was a chance, another chance that fate gave him to look after his lover once again, to be acknowledge, to start over, maybe… He was so happy receiving good news from Hoon everyday, so happy to be counted as an important person to the other’s life.

When Seunghoon asked for them to meet, he was so eager. Yet at the same time, he was worried. Would seeing a face he’d forgotten do anything to trigger his memory, would it do any harm to his recovery? He watched Seunghoon’s re-surgery, unease and confused, but in the end, he couldn’t help this selfish self. He wanted Hoon to remember him again, he wanted to have Hoon again.

He almost laughed out loud in joy when the other sent him that selfie with such flirtatious words. He paid too much attention in posing for a perfect selfie to send back.

 

> _“…_ _The rash lights of the cars, busily going somewhere_ _…”_

He heard the yells of people around him, telling him to get away. Bright headlights blinding his sights, noises of cars honking and screeching on the road, yet the car still came at him at full speed. He saw it all, as if in slow-motion, and he saw glimpse of his past flashed back, almost as a curse…

 

***

 

_“…If god must take, why not take mine instead!?”_

_“I can walk to you, Jinwoo.”_

 

***

 

That moment, Jinwoo stayed. He closed his eyes, and he stayed…

 

***

 

“Jinwoo, I’m sorry… I’m so… so sorry….”

He rubbed his thumb over the back of Seunghoon’s hand, gliding his other arm up Seunghoon’s back and pulled him down. He hadn’t been able to feel this warmth for so long, and now that was all he knew, all he needed, “Ssh—”

Hoon was standing, leaning down yet still his posture was firm and steady, that was a good sign; and he breathed relief. Opening his eyes, he looked over his lover’s shoulders, and his eyes went rigid. Standing in a corner of the room, equipped with cold metal linings, self-manual boards on both handles and a soft cushion underneath; a wheelchair…

“I’m sorry I hurt you… I forgot you and that hurts you and.. and I’m sorry… I hadn’t been there for you, but I’m here now… No matter what, I’ll be here for you, I swear…”

“I know… I know…” He rubbed soft pleasing circles on Seunghoon’s back, closing his eyes. His body felt heavy from his waist downwards, yet why was it that his heart feel so light? “Don’t cry, Hoonie-ah… It’s gonna be alright…”

The only sound heard now was this frantic, rushing, throbbing heart of his, of Hoon’s, but eventually, they were slowing to an even pace. They’d got each other now, and that was enough…

The music still played, it was coming to final heart-moving chorus…

 

> _” Are you listening._ _t_ _o my voice, to this confession for you?_
> 
> _Are you listening right now?_   _Can you hear my heart?_ _”_

 

***

_End._

 

> _Don’t forget me ever._
> 
> _Never ever._
> 
> _Me._

_2017.11.1._

_Hoon’s birthday._

_For my king._

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I know not too long ago I had intention of editing this piece, but I have too many to handle so I'm gonna postpone that intention. Thank you for your waiting. I hope you enjoy what you've read <3


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